


A Winterfell Welcome

by logandelos



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/logandelos/pseuds/logandelos
Summary: A bastard boy and a wolf girl are reunited, finally.





	1. A Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm not the only one sorely disappointed by the absence of a reunion between Gendry & Arya. So, here it is! 
> 
> This is my first fic in gods knows how long, so please bear with me. And yes, it's going to be more than the one chapter. Upon flying through this first chapter I very quickly realised how much I needed this.

Snow. It's all he'd remembered at first and even that was foggy at best. However, once Gendry had come to, albeit slowly, it all came back to him. The Wall and Jon Snow, the undead and a Dragon Queen. Thank the Gods for fire and furs or he'd surely be dead himself. What had compelled him to run so far? Idiocy from a bull-headed boy, no doubt. That and a promise made to a bastard king. Davos had saved him, again, something that Gendry couldn't even begin to repay. And yet, here he was trying his damnedest anyway.

Jon Snow ventured to King's Landing, a journey that Gendry feared would be for naught. But it wasn't his place to speak on these matters. So, he instead left for Winterfell to craft Dragonglass weapons for the war to come. Winterfell was so close, close enough that he forgot about the ache in his bones, the icy sludge beneath his feet.  His mind was instead focused on the fact that she wouldn't be there. The one person who would've made it all worth it. The Red Witch, the rowing and intense dread he felt upon returning to Kings Landing.

The fear that Arya had indeed died alongside her mother and brother was enough to stop him from mentioning her to Jon. It was cowardly and he knew it. But Gendry wasn't ready to admit to himself that he regretted it, it was even less likely he'd admit it to her brother. Admit that if it weren't for him, she'd be alive.

He stilled as Winterfell came into view, the Stark sigil swaying in the restless air. Gendry closed his eyes, letting out a long, ragged breath.

 

Sansa filled the role of Lady well and Arya had told her as much. With Baelish gone, at Arya's hand and Sansa's order no less, Winterfell had truly begun to feel like home again. But in a separate way from before, which was unsurprising given how much time had passed.

"He's to be buried outside of Winterfell's grounds." Sansa said without hesitation. "A traitor doesn't deserve to be buried within these walls."

Though it was directed to someone else, Arya felt herself nod as her hand went to rest upon the blade which had delivered the final blow. All the plotting had done Petyr Baelish no good in the end. He was to end up in an unmarked grave, rotting away as he was forgotten by all who'd suffered at his hand. The very thought pleased her greatly and she doubted her sister felt much differently.

She watched as Sansa continued to converse with the Lords, only mildly aware of the commotion below. It had occurred to her multiple times how much Sansa had grown, she was no longer a young girl. Despite what had been said between them while conspiring against Littlefinger, Arya was proud of her sister. Few would've survived what she did and come out the other side as pragmatic and sensible as ever.

"Thank you, Lady Stark. The hall shall be cleaned thoroughly." A bow for the sisters before the Lords dismissed themselves, leaving the pair to look out over the grounds.

"It feels odd not having someone at my side telling me what to do." Sansa said half a beat later.

"I am happy to boss you around if it would make you feel better." Arya retorted, malice nowhere to be found in her tone.

Sansa was silent for a moment before she laughed. "I'd rather you didn't." She smiled. "But thank you."

 

Gendry swore his feet had taken him to the gates of their own accord. He couldn't remember moving from his spot on the hill, but there he was. He felt eyes drawn to him as he approached, hands moving to sword hilts.

"Jon Snow sent me." He blurted out as the men stepped towards him, looking nervously at their blades. Tormund had taken his hammer, all he had was a flimsy knife and that would do little against forged steel. "I'm here to help."

The men exchanged glances, a raised brow and nodded before one turned his back.

"Lady Stark!" Gendry barely registered that the men had parted as his gaze went beyond the guards.

Sansa Stark, _Lady_ Sansa Stark approached. But it wasn't her, even with hair the colour of fire, that his eyes settled on. She'd undoubtedly grown since he'd last seen her. He felt stupid for being so surprised, but Gods. Dark hair brushed her shoulders and she moved fluidly. Arya. It was her, but it couldn't be. Not when she'd been at the Red Wedding, slaughtered by the Bolton's. His fault. All his fault.

Either sister had yet to look at the newest arrival, still deep in conversation as they approached. It was only when the guards addressed Sansa that Arya's gaze met his. Her hand fell away from where it had still been resting comfortably against her dagger.

Neither of them said a word, simply stared at one another. Sansa stood, unable to hide the confusion on her face as Arya stepped forwards. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she scrunched up her nose.

"You cut your hair." Arya's voice was so quiet that Gendry nearly didn't hear her. "It looks awful."

"You didn't cut yours." He said, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I like it."


	2. A Wielded Needle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow's return is on the horizon, Arya wields the needle she knows best and Sansa's interest is piqued in Arya's relationship with Winterfell's new blacksmith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank you all for the positive response to A Winterfell Welcome. Unfortunately I lost muse for this story shortly after the season ended. That isn't to say I won't find myself reinspired, but for the time being this fic has been shelved. I appreciate every kudos, every read and your lovely comments. It means a lot. 
> 
> Until next time.

Days passed after Gendry's arrival at Winterfell quickly. He'd settled in comfortably under Arya's watchful eye, though surely if asked she had _nothing_ to do with it. The castle was abuzz with the news that Jon's return was imminent, the scroll declaring as such ceasing Sansa's anxiousness late one night. The Targaryen woman, to Arya's surprise, was said to be accompanying him.

Winterfell had since become alive in a way that brought back memories of the arrival of King Robert years before. It was bittersweet but to see Stark banners hanging from every free wall, knowing that soon her brother would be home was enough to ease any nervousness she felt. Neither Arya nor Sansa had so much as a moment to themselves between the fervent questions of Lords and the practice Arya had decided was a necessity. She'd grown lax since leaving Braavos, the absence of willing sparring partners a significant deterrent.

Sparring aside, Arya found dawn the perfect time to practice in peace. While hardly as bustling as Arya remembered, the grounds became crowded with the arrival of more allies during the day. The dawn granted her grounds that were practically empty, save several guards and the odd wandering Lord here and there. Though several gave her odd looks she gave them no mind, instead allowing herself to focus on what she knew best.

It was when Arya felt the closest to her father, to Syrio, even to Gendry though he was closer than the others. She twirled Needle in her hand with ease, repeating her list silently like a hymn.

"Father would be proud.” Sansa said, disrupting Arya’s daze some time later. She was bundled up in furs, leaving only her face exposed to the cool air. Her cheeks and nose were flushed, brightening her face considerably despite the bags under her eyes.

“Mother would be mortified.” Arya countered, a small smile on her face as she sheathed her sword. Her stance relaxed as she regarded her sister, brow furrowing. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Unfortunately, no. Though it seems I'm not alone." Sansa exhaled, her breath fanning out as she gestured towards Arya's hip. "Jon will be pleased that you still have it."

"I hope so." Her teeth gnawed at her bottom lip as Sansa moved to her side. Her voice became noticeably vulnerable as she added, "It's been so long."

Sansa rested a hand on her sister's shoulder, her gaze steady as she smiled warmly. "I'm sure it'll feel like no time has passed once you see one another. Don't fret."  

"Has he changed much?"

"Yes and no. He's more serious now, but I suppose we all are." Sansa said. "He's still Jon though, if that's what you're asking."

It was clear that Sansa had grown fonder of Jon and for that Arya was grateful. They had plenty of enemies outside of their home, they hardly needed to bicker within. Arya just hoped she was telling the truth as the anticipation of his return bubbled like acid in her stomach.

The two of them settled into a comfortable silence as around them Winterfell woke up for the day.

 

"Lady Stark, we were wondering if we might have an update on our weapons." The conversation behind Arya had barely registered until the weapons were mentioned. Word had quickly spread Gendry had settled in well and was a natural blacksmith. That was hardly news to her, memories of their time at Harrenhal speaking for themselves. To work with Dragonglass however was a different story.

It was an excruciating few minutes until Sansa politely ended the conversation, "I'll ensure that progress is steady, at least until Jon has returned. We appreciate your patience." The Lords bowed before retreating and Sansa sighed, gesturing for Arya to follow her in the opposite direction.

"You'd think they had been waiting weeks, not days." Sansa sounded slightly exasperated, her shoulders stiff. "Gods, I hope that blacksmith of yours is efficient."

"He's not m-!" Arya half-heartedly argued but gave up as she caught the amused look on Sansa's face.

The forge met the Stark sisters with steam and unrestrained heat that contrasted greatly with the winter.

"I'm of half mind to shed my furs." Sansa joked, a playful smile on her face as she hung back at the entrance inspecting the doorway inconspicuously.

Arya scoffed, "And tarnish your good name? I doubt that." If she weren't already aware of Gendry inhabiting the forge, it would've certainly reminded her of him. Weapons of all sorts littered every surface of the forge, crafted in a way she was sure would please the Lords. But it was no sword nor mace that caught her eye for more than a second. Instead, it was what rested upon a bench just out of sight. A familiar helm that made the corners of Arya's mouth rise despite her initial inclination to deny it.

Her hand reached out, curiosity getting the better of her. The bullhead was crafted with more finesse than the one Arya could remember, the metal smooth to the touch. She went to lift it when someone cleared their throat.

Arya went to scold Sansa before she felt someone at her side.

"Milady." Arya spun, her hand dropping to her side as she narrowed her eyes at Gendry. He'd shed the thick coat he'd arrived with, instead having donned a thin sleeveless shirt. The grin was unmistakable, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously as he looked her over. "What grants me the honour of your presence?"

Arya went to retort, though her tone would've surely betrayed the lack of malice.

"The Lords request an update on the weapons you've been forging for my brother." Sansa interrupted, though her face suggested she'd have preferred to observe.

Gendry bowed his head nervously at the sight of Sansa. “Your Grace.” His cheeks reddened and Arya would gamble the forge wasn't entirely to blame. "I greatly appreciate your hospitality."

"No thanks are necessary." Sansa smiled, eyes twinkling as she glanced between the pair. "At least, not to me. And Sansa's fine."

 


End file.
